


The Great Lucian Cook-Off!

by Killingyoudarling



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Comedy, Cooking, Cooking Competition, F/M, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-10-02 15:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10221395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killingyoudarling/pseuds/Killingyoudarling
Summary: Tired of his cooking skills being taken for granted, Ignis throws down his knives and challenges the guys to take part in a cooking competition.Let the Great Lucian Cook-Off commence!





	1. Chapter 1

As the sun dips below the horizon, the Regalia pulls into the covered parking lot at Galdin Quay.

Prompto’s the first out, bounding from the car to the powdery sand. “Woo! Beach time!”

“Too bad you left your sand toys back at the Crown City,” Gladiolus remarks, tying his hair into a low bun.

“Shut up! You know I make the best sand castles.”

Noctis rouses from his nap in the backseat and looks around sleepily. “Where are we?”

“Figured we could use a bit of a holiday away from hunting monsters and fighting the Empire,” Ignis says, popping the trunk and removing his beloved kitchen supplies. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

A smile plays on Noctis’ lips. “Count me in.” He swiftly leaves the car and warps to Prompto, tackling him to the ground. While they playfully spar in the sand, Gladio and Ignis unload the camping supplies. They pick up as much as they can carry and start out towards the haven.

“Come on, children. There’s work to do,” Ignis calls out to them.

Noctis and Prompto dust themselves off and pick up the rest of the supplies before following the others. The haven lies in the distance, its soft blue smoke trailing upwards serving as a homing beacon to the world-weary.

*******

Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto sit around the campfire, absorbed in a round of King’s Knight. Ignis finishes sharpening his knives. “So, what do we want for supper tonight?”

Noctis shrugs his indifference.

“Robust Bean Soup,” chirps Prompto.

“I hate beans,” says Noctis.

“You also forget we all sleep in the same tent with you,” says Gladio, getting a snort from Noctis. “I say we do Cup Noodles.”

“You always want Cup Noodles,” whines Prompto.

“I suggest something with a bit more nutritional value,” Ignis chimes in.

“What do you suggest, Specs?” asks Noctis.

“Hmm,” he strokes his chin thoughtfully, “what about cutlet with tomato?”

There’s a unanimous groan from the group.

“I swear we have that once a week,” says Noctis.

“I think I have an aversion to tomatoes now,” says Prompto, patting his stomach.

“I still feel Cup Noodles is a good choice,” Gladio grumbles.

The trio continues to bicker about their food preferences. Ignis looks at the sunset, his glasses reflect the glare, making his expression unreadable. Suddenly, he stabs the knife into the cutting board. “That’s it!”

Noctis and the others quiet, looking at him.

“What,” asks Noctis.

“Think of a new recipe,” quips Gladio.

“I am done trying to appeal to your tastes, whether it’s being unhealthy,” he glares at Gladio, who turns up his nose in defiance, “being picky,” Noctis takes the jab and continues to sulk, arms crossed, “or making everyone else suffer,” Prompto deflates in his chair, loathing the conflict. “So until you lot stop acting like children who take my services for granted, I’m no longer cooking. Figure out dinner yourselves.”

Ignis storms off towards the Galdin Quay resort, leaving Noctis and the others with their grumbling stomachs.

***

Ignis sits at the bar nursing a cocktail. Coctura, the tipster, approaches him. “You wait much longer and that drink isn’t going to be ‘on the rocks’ anymore.”

“You’re right.” He casts the drink aside. “Do you happen to have any ebony?”

“Sure do! One moment.” Coctura walks to the other side of the kitchen set up.

Ignis rests his chin on his hand, staring into space. Across the lounge, a small group clusters around a hanging television. On the screen, contestants are rapidly cooking dishes while a timer ticks down. The dishes they make are beautiful with a combination of exotic ingredients. Coctura returns, pouring Ignis a mug of ebony. He gestures to the television. “What’s that on the telly?”

Coctura looks at the television and smiles. “That’s The Great Lucian Cook-Off. It’s a hit around here, I’m surprised you’ve never heard of it.”

Ignis sips his ebony. “Been a bit preoccupied lately, advising the Crown Prince and all.”

She blushes. “Sorry, I know you guys don’t have time for such silly activities.”

“It’s quite a fascinating watch, if I do say.”

Coctura leaves the pot of ebony with him and the bill. “What better way to improve your craft than to compete for a prize?”

“Indeed.” Ignis drinks is ebony, becoming absorbed in the show.

***

Ignis sighs as he surveys the haven. Utensils litter the ground, while burnt pans sit smoking next to the portable stove. Empty cans that once contained canned meat lay near the fire: a telltale sign of the desperation the guys resorted to. Ignis peeks inside the tent: Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto are piled inside, passed out. He smiles to himself, letting the tent flap fall shut.

Ignis removes his jacket and rolls up his sleeves; he has a long night ahead of him.

***

Gladio, always the early riser, exits the tent, mid-yawn. He finds Ignis watching the sunrise, a cup of ebony in hand. “Oh, shit.”

Ignis doesn’t spare him a glance. “Rough night, I see.”

“Sorry ‘bout that, Iggy.”

Prompto pokes his head out of the tent. “Hey, what’s for breakfast?”

Gladio gives Prompto a look that reads _drop it_. Prompto disappears back into the tent, and a moment later reappears, dragging a sleepy Noctis with him.

“What’s going on?” asks Noctis, rubbing his eyes.

Ignis gestures to the seats around the fire. “Sit.”

The three obediently take their seats. “Look,” says Noctis, “if this is about the mess-“

“It’s not. Not really; I didn’t expect any less from you lot. I’ve done a lot of thinking last night, and I want to say something.”

Gladio leans back, folding his hands behind his head. “Well, spit it out already.”

Ignis stands up and readjust his glasses, his only sign of nervousness. “Well, first, I won’t apologize for what I said last night. I won’t excuse bad behavior or how much I’m taken for granted. That being said, I’ve come up with a solution that will benefit all of us.

“Are we gonna be stuck doing dish duty forever now?” retorts Noctis.

The corner of Ignis’ mouth quirks upwards a little. “No.”

Prompto rubs his tummy. “As long as I can eat after this, I’ll agree to anything.”

“What’s the verdict, Iggy?” asks Gladio.

“I’ve decided,” says Ignis with the utmost confidence, “to make you all participate in a cooking competition I’ve devised.”

The guys practically jump out of their seats in dismay. “WHAT!” they shout, breaking the peaceful silence of daybreak.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back! And am finally coming to an end of that lovely yet daunting first act set up of the story. Now the real fun can begin!

Noctis, Gladiolus, and Prompto hang out at Lestallum’s marketplace. Prompto eats anak meat on a stick while Gladio inspects vegetables piled on a stand nearby and Noctis browses the antiques shop.

***

_Ignis stands by the smoldering campfire in front of the others, who are still reeling from his announcement._

_“The rules are simple: there will be four challenges, one for each course.”_

_Prompto and Noctis sink a little lower in their seats._

_“Points will be given at the end of each challenge, based on the quality of the dish.”_

_Gladio smirks in an attempt to diffuse his uneasiness._

_“Whoever has the most points at the end of the competition will be declared the winner and will decide the meals made for a month without having to participate in the preparation.”_

_By this point, Noctis’ grimace is so pronounced he might as well be impersonating a bulldog, Prompto lies on the ground playing dead, and Gladio bounces his knee in agitation._

_“This is so unfair,” says Noctis._

_“Take it as a lesson in self-sufficiency, your highness,” says Ignis._

_“But why do we have to do it too?” whines Prompto, lifting his head from the ground._

_“Because you’re all part of the King’s entourage; whatever his highness suffers, you must also endure.”_

_“So when do we start?” asks Gladio._

_Ignis pulls the Regalia’s keys from his pocket. “We head to Lestallum today. Take the day, do some shopping, and I’ll announce the first challenge tomorrow.”_

***

Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto leave the market with plastic bags full of produce and foil-covered plates of carryout. They head to their suite at the Hotel Leville. Ignis still hasn’t returned from securing the “arrangements” for tomorrow, so the guys tear into their early dinner.

“Iggy went too far this time,” says Gladio between mouthfuls of food.

“I don’t know. This could be fun. Maybe I can get Cindy to be my cheerleader,” says Prompto.

“I thought you were all over Aranea now,” says Noctis, who has picked apart his food, pushing aside the vegetables.

“If I had to cook for anyone, it would be Cindy. To see her smile when she takes a mouthful of deliciousness will make the effort worth it.”

“You should’ve kept that fantasy to yourself,” says Gladio, smug.

Prompto throws a handful of plastic utensils at him. “Not what I meant!” He shouts. Gladio shields his face, chuckling.

“All right big guy, what would you get out of this competition?” asks Noctis.

“I want to lead the revolution of Cup Noodles,” he stands gallantly, ignoring the snorts of laughter coming from the other two. “I’m gonna push the boundaries of that perfect harmony of noodles and broth and win this competition.”

A silence falls among the group.

“You really think you can win this by dressing up Cup Noodles?” asks Noctis.

“Hell yeah. It’s the greatest base for inspiration,” Gladio looks at Prompto, egging him on.

“Hey, love is the most powerful force to reckon with. And if there’s anything I love more than Cindy, it’s food. I love all food, unlike some people.”

“I like food. Just not the ones that taste like plant life you pick in the Duscean wilderness.”

Which is why you. Won’t. Win,” Prompto pokes Noctis in the chest with each word.

Noctis puts Prompto in a chokehold and gives him a noogie. “At least I don’t have to impress my girl with my domestic skills.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with a man doing housework,” Gladio says defiantly.

With a sleight of hand, Prompto reaches behind him, grabbing a handful of grilled leiden peppers and crams them into Noctis’ mouth. “I’ll save Iggy the trouble of lecturing you about eating your greens.”

Noctis spits the peppers out and reaches into one of the bags, pulling out a bag of saxham rice. “I guess I’ll make it rain as practice for you and Cindy’s wedding after you win.” He launches the bag of rice, to which Prompto whips out one of his pistols and shoots it. The bullet rips the bag apart and breaks through the window.

***

Iggy walks through the Leville plaza when the bullet breezes past his head, shattering one of the stones in the cobbled street. He looks to the hotel window, seeing the hole that matches the location of the guys’ room. He sighs and heads to the hotel.

***

Fruit explodes against the wall as Noctis ducks out of the way. He’s covered in shchier turmeric and launches a Lucian tomato at Prompto, catching him in the back of the head. Prompto’s head now drips in red juice; he picks up a chickatrice leg, wielding it like a sword and blocks a swing from Gladio, who wields a trout. Noctis takes a whole barramundi he caught earlier and joins the fight. The three of them are rolling on the hotel floor, slapping each other with raw fish, when Ignis walks in.

“What the hell is going on?” He looks at the mess in shock.

The guys look up, caught in the act. Gladio takes the opportunity to whack Prompto with the fish again, which now rests on his head.

“They said I wouldn’t win if motivated by love!” Prompto smacks the fish off his head, clambering to his feet.

“If there’s anybody who’s gonna win, it’ll be the future King of Lucis.” Noctis stares down Prompto.

“I’m just in it for the Cup Noodles and shutting these squirts up.” Gladio stands and Prompto grabs up the increasingly battered trout, letting out a battle cry. Gladio puts his hand on Prompto’s forehead, holding him off with ease as Prompto swings the fish wildly at him. He smiles in amusement.

Ignis pinches the bridge of his nose. “While I’m glad you are taking this competition seriously, this doesn’t excuse you from cleaning up this mess,” he looks at them, “or yourselves. You stink of fish.”

The guys look around, finally acknowledging the mess they’ve made. “Damn… what are we gonna do about dinner?” asks Prompto.

“You appear to be wearing it,” says Ignis.

“I have an idea!” yells Gladio. He magically pulls out a container of Cup Noodles from behind him. Noctis’ eye twitches.

“I’m going out to get something,” says Noctis as he heads for the door.

“I’m coming,” Prompto follows behind.

Ignis steps in front of them.

“I’m afraid you won’t be going anywhere until this mess is cleaned up,” says Ignis.

The guys’ shoulders slump and they turn around.

“Cup Noodles it is,” grumbles Noctis.

***

"Rise and shine!” shouts Ignis, ripping open the curtains. Noctis groans and further rolls himself into a duvet burrito. Prompto, spread eagle on top of his bed with an arm over his eyes shifts slightly, deems it futile, and goes limp, ignoring Ignis. Gladio walks into the room, rejoining them after his morning run.

“It’s game time!” Gladio roars, ripping the duvet off Noctis, sending him rolling off the bed.

“Come on! Can’t we push it back another day?” Noctis moans from the ground.

“We are on a tight schedule. There are people waiting to assist you.” Ignis nudges Prompto awake, who sleepily disappears into the bathroom to restyle his hair, which ends up sticking out in every direction like an electrocuted chocobo.

***

Ignis leads his sleepy brigade to the main plaza, where the restaurant is closed for the day. The portly restaurant owner/tipster waits out front.

“Are we ready?” Ignis asks the tipster.

“Si. Come this way.”

The tipster leads the group inside to a stainless steel-clad kitchen. A long counter stands bare with three stations. “Take your places, gentlemen.” Ignis commands.

Gladio leads the way, followed by Prompto, who swipes a chef’s hat from a coat rack and pops it on his head, and Noctis, who lazily pulls up the rear. “It’s too early for this shit.” He mutters.

With all three at their stations, Ignis stands at the head of the kitchen, hands clasped behind his back. “Welcome gentlemen, to your first challenge in this five-part cook off.”

He makes eye contact with all of them, and coughs to get Prompto’s attention, who’s juggling tomatoes. Prompto swiftly lines up the tomatoes and stands still.

“Now since I’m not an unreasonable person, I decided to make this challenge an easy one, to test the waters. Are you ready?”

The guys stand at attention and nod.

“Good,” says Ignis. “Your first challenge will be…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all have enjoyed and can't wait to see the chocobros in action, even if it's failed action.
> 
> P.S. I thrive on making Prompto a clown, because I love him for it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Finally the first cooking challenge is happening and all the time spent watching cooking shows has been put to good use. 
> 
> Fun fact: All these recipes are existing recipes that can be made (although I don't suggest you follow what the boys are doing and instead research recipes that work for you)!
> 
> I've also recently changed the rating because the language became slightly more intense, but I think it's something we can all handle, yeah?
> 
> Thank you for all prior comments and kudos, and I'd like to personally thank Yuri!! On Ice for paving the way to great internal dialogues. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Salad,” says Ignis. “You will be judged based on presentation and taste. You have one hour starting,” he looks at the wall clock as well as setting a kitchen timer beside him, “now.”

The guys blankly stare at their empty stations, frozen, before reality hits them. Gladio moves to one of the stoves to begin prep while Prompto piles vegetables into his arms from the pantry. Meanwhile, Noctis opens the fridge and lingers, the cold air bathing over him as he ponders its contents.

***

**0:58**

Gladio sets a saucepan of water on the stove to a boil.

_I’ll show them just how universal Cup Noodles can be. Ramen? Easy. Salad. Doable. This will be the best damn hiyashi chuka they’ve ever tasted. Whatever course, Cup Noodles is applicable._

He pulls out a bag of frozen shrimp, running it under warm tap water to thaw it.

_They’ll learn the true harmony of noodles, broth, and fixings is incomparable._

Gladio looks over at Prompto, who frantically washes vegetables, and Noctis, who now carries a sack of leiden potatoes and wild onions to his station.

_I will be the King of Cup Noodles._

***

**0:53**

_Food. I love food, but who the hell eats raw food? This is a “cooking” competition, ain’t it? Not a “cutting up produce and covering it with oil” competition._

Prompto bounces on his heels anxiously as he eyes the spread of vegetables at his station.

            _I know what I like: cooked things and spicy things. Spicy. I can do that!_

            He pulls forward a couple leiden peppers and slices them up, followed by some onions and kettier ginger.

            _I’ll do a pepper and onion salad with a kickass dressing. Healthy, creative,_ and _presentable! I’m a new, healthier Prompto!_

Prompto is so pumped by his own internal pep talk, he practically minces the ginger.

            _When I win this competition, I’ll ask Cindy out to dinner. A dinner I made. She’ll love it, and then love me! The perfect plan!_

***

**0:50**

Noctis scrubs the potatoes in the sink, his brows furrowed.

            _The fuck am I doing? The fuck does Iggy think he’s playing at with choosing salad as the first challenge. He_ knows _I hate salad. Most salads._

He tosses the potatoes in a soup pot, fills it with water, and sets it on the stove. He turns the heat on high. Noctis does the same for a small saucepan of eggs.

            _Just pick the vegetables you like, and there’s probably a salad for it. I like potatoes. Potatoes are reliable. Potato salad. Definitely something that won’t make me gag._

            Noctis looks at Gladio, who’s concocting a broth made from daggerquill breast, soy sauce, and kettier ginger.

            _He looks like he knows what he’s doing. Shit._

He looks at Prompto mixing his chopped vegetables together in a large metal bowl, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth with concentration. He dumps way too much vinegar in his mixture.

            _Well…at least there’s some hope for me._

***

**0:45**

Ignis watches the trio as they bustle around the kitchen. He observes Gladio tending to his pots on the stovetop.

            _Gladio seems to be the least phased by this challenge._

His eyes narrow as he watches Gladio dump raw noodles into the boiling pot.

            _I swear to Bahamut if he’s making ramen…_

Ignis’ gaze flicks over to Prompto as he slices a jalapeño pepper, and dumps the entirety of it into his salad. “Sparingly, Prompto. The point is to create layers of flavor, not annihilate one’s taste buds.”

             Prompto picks some jalapeño out of his salad. “Y-yes sir!”

            Ignis nods in approval and looks over at Noctis. He hides his face in his hand when he sees Noctis cutting an onion with the skin on it, creating a mess of papery shreds interspersed with the onion slices.

            “Noct,” Ignis calls to him. “You’re aware the skin of the onion must be peeled away _before_ you cut it, are you not?”

            Noctis gives him a loathsome look before picking the onion skins out of his pile.

            Ignis sighs, exasperated. _You can make a man a king, but that doesn’t mean he can care for himself. This is the only way he’ll learn without rebelling while absolving my guilt for this glaring failure._

***

**0:36**

Prompto leans on the counter watching the clock. His pepper and onion mixture marinates in the vinegar.

_At this rate, I’ll definitely be done before everyone else!_

He pokes it with a fork. The peppers have softened slightly. Prompto takes salt, pepper, olive oil, and a couple leaves of basil, adding them to his salad. Giving it one last toss, he puts plastic wrap over the bowl and places it in the fridge.

“Done!” he shouts as he punches the air. Noctis and Gladio look at him in dismay while Ignis remains stoic.

“You know you have twenty minutes left,” says Ignis.

“Plenty of time for it to bathe in its juices, yeah?” Prompto takes a Duscaen orange and peels it, popping a slice into his mouth.

_I got this one in the bag._

He watches Noctis who pulls his boiled potatoes out of the pot and tries to peel them from the skin with his bare hands.

“Fuck!” he shouts, shaking his hand in a vain attempt to cool it off after touching a steaming hot potato.

“Hey Noct, maybe you should’ve peeled the potatoes before boiling them.” Prompto wiggles his fingers at him. “You’re gonna need both hands when you make us dinner for the next month.” Noctis gives him a death glare which Prompto returns with a toothy grin.

“Prompto, stop distracting the others,” orders Ignis.

Prompto lays his head on his crossed arms on his station with a huff.

_Always ruining my fun, Specs._

***

**0:25**

Gladio sautés shrimp in a frying pan with butter while his noodles cool off in the fridge.

            _Of course that runt finishes first. It’s all about speed for him, not savoring the process._

The shrimp curl up and turn pink. A fork appears, stabbing one of the shrimp. Gladio turns to see Prompto pop it in his mouth, only to dance around with his mouth half open to keep from burning his tongue.

            “Hawt!” Prompto whines.

            “You little shit!” Gladio grabs Prompto by the vest.

            “Back to work, Gladio!” warns Ignis.

            Prompto dances away, chewing on his victory.

            Gladio grumbles to himself when he notices his shrimp is starting to burn.

            _A saboteur is what he is._

            He turns the heat off.

***

**0:13**

Noctis rolls a hard-boiled egg on the cutting board until the shell is fully cracked. He picks away at the pieces, growling in frustration at the tediousness of the action.

“Noct,” Ignis says, coming over. “There’s a better way.”

Ignis takes a new egg, rolls it on the counter until it’s cracked, and takes a spoon, using it like a spade to expertly peel away the shell. He gives Noctis the egg, smooth and shell free.

“Hey, that’s cheating,” says Prompto. “You have to succeed alone and fail alone!”

Ignis readjusts his glasses. “I have offered advice and comments this entire time to you all, or have you forgotten?”

Prompto shuts up and goes to the fridge to retrieve his salad. Ignis turns his attention back to Noctis.

“Think you got it?”

            “Yeah, thanks.”

            Noctis tries again with another egg, and succeeds in only making a couple divots in the egg white. Once all the eggs are deshelled, he chops them up, placing them in a bowl with chopped up potatoes and sliced onions.

***

**0:05**

Ignis returns to this spot at the front of the kitchen. “Five minutes,” he calls out to the others. Whatever calm pace the guys were working at, panic sets in and each of them rushes as they try to put the finishing touches to their dishes.

            Gladio piles the chilled noodles on his plate, spooning a half-cups worth of broth over it before meticulously arranging the fixings on and around the noodles. Ignis watches with intrigue as this hulking man appears to possess a delicate touch that never once appears on the battlefield.

            Meanwhile, Prompto plates his salad with a pair of tongs. Ignis tries to cover his grimace as he sees the peppers and onions dripping with liquid as it’s placed on the plate, the dressing now pooling at the bottom of the plate. Prompto wipes spillage on the outer rim with a cloth before sliding the plate to the opposite end of his station. He breathes a sigh of relief.

            “One minute!” Ignis shouts.

            At the opposite end of the counter, Noctis stirs his mixture with mayonnaise until it’s fully coated. He adds salt and pepper, shaking until it dusts the top layer of the salad and stirs again. He eyes the clock as the second counter reaches the six.

            “To hell with this,” he mutters to himself. He sets the bowl on the counter, and quickly spoons the salad onto a plate, sliding it forward just as Ignis’ kitchen timer goes off.

            “Time’s up!” Ignis turns off the timer and looks at the guys, who stand behind the counter. “Let’s see what we have here, shall we?”

Ignis stands in front of Gladio, looking down at the plate. “What did you make?” he asks.

“Hiyashi Chuka with a daggerquill breast broth, ham, and shrimp,” Gladio answers.

“The presentation is certainly pleasing to the eye.” Ignis picks up a pair of chopsticks, breaks them in two, and picks up some of the shrimp and noodles. The group appears to hold their breath as he takes his first bite. Ignis ponders the flavor for a moment. “The noodles are a good texture, the broth a light, savory compliment, but the shrimp is a bit overdone.

Gladio’s gaze flicks over to Prompto, who nervously chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

“Thank you, Gladio,” says Ignis before he moves on. Gladio nods at him in return.

Ignis goes over to Noctis, who stares blankly at the counter. “And what did you make, Noct?” asks Ignis.

Noctis doesn’t meet his eyes. “Potato salad.”

Ignis eyes the plate. “Well, it’s not a salad that can possess a glamorous presentation, but it looks like it’s holding its form.”

The chopsticks once again make an appearance, snagging a piece of potato and egg. “the potato is soft, but not enough for it to fall apart,” notes Ignis. He pops the food into his mouth and closes his eyes, savoring it. “There’s the right amount of mayo, and I can taste the different salts you used, but it’s not overpowering.” Ignis gives Noctis a small smile. “Well done.”

Noctis’ eyes widen at the compliment. “Th-thanks.”

Gladio cracks his knuckles in agitation.  Prompto blows his bangs out of his face, crossing his arms. “Cheater,” he grumbles to himself. Ignis appears in front of him. “Hey buddy,” Prompto flashes him with a smile. Ignis isn’t humored by it.

“And you made?”

Prompto gestures to his salad like a gameshow host presenting a prize. “A pepper and onion salad with a bit of a kick,” he adds a wink. Ignis’ eyebrow rises in question. Gladio suppresses a smile while Noctis watches, leaning on the counter half-asleep.

Ignis plucks a slice of pepper from the salad and eats it. He swallows and covers his mouth to cough, his eyes squinted in reaction to the sour taste and lingering burn in his throat. “Well, I see you were generous with the vinegar. And the peppers were the proper texture,” Ignis picks at the salad, inspecting it. “But I’m afraid I can’t pick up the other flavors due to the…acidity of the dressing.”

Prompto’s face falls, his gaze falling to the countertop. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he says quietly. Ignis pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and dabs his mouth before returning to the front of the kitchen.

“After reviewing the dishes, I believe I can confidently announce the winner of this round.” Ignis meets eyes with them all, and clears his throat when he sees Noctis, eyes closed and head about to fall from his hand as he sleeps.

Gladio nudges Noctis awake, who abruptly stands up. The guys look at Ignis expectantly. “Right then, the winner of the first round is…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliffhanger! Who do you think is gonna win?! Leave your thoughts and comments below!
> 
> You can also follow me on my blog(s) on Tumblr, which have somehow not so suddenly been converted into FFXV trash and other nonsense:  
> killingyoudarling and mambodechocobro
> 
> More updates in the coming weeks! Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have our winner! *triggers confetti cannon* 
> 
> Sorry this update came later than anticipated. Con season has begun which means disappearing into the depths of cosplay making. 
> 
> But I've added a new element or two in this story, but you'll just have to wait and see...because it's not something I'm going to exploit ad nauseam.

“And the winner of the first round is… Noctis,” says Ignis, trying to mask his pride.

“Seriously?” asks Noctis.

Prompto groans and buries his face in his arms.

Gladio’s fist knocks on the metal counter in agitation. “What made you decide, Iggy?”

“As I said earlier, this round will be judged based on presentation and taste. While yours was pleasing to the eye, there wasn’t a lot of imagination put into the dish. It possessed all the basics of a ‘fresh’ cup noodles, except served cold.”

Gladio smirks. “Heh, I guess you got me there.”

Ignis diverts his attention to Prompto, who tries to steal a noodle from Gladio’s plate. “Whereas Prompto felt time was the key to success, so he threw whatever he deemed good, drowned it in oil, and called it a masterpiece.”

“Hey! I gave a valiant effort. I went the freshest, most flavorful vegetables.” Prompto picks up a slice of pepper and it drips oil. Noctis and Gladio cringe.

“Just… try to be more serious next time,” chides Ignis. He walks over to Noctis. “I chose Noctis’ dish because while it’s not the most glamorous, he managed to create a harmony of flavors, both savory yet refreshing, and it was inventive, by his standards, considering his love-hate relationship with vegetables.”

“Thanks,” says Noctis sarcastically. His boosted ego gets the best of him and he smirks. “So, what’s my prize as winner?”

“Nothing. Well, nothing tangible. I’ve decided to operate this competition based on a point system. You won, so you get nine points. Gladio gets six, because he’s the runner up but his dish lacked creativity, and Prompto gets three,” he points to each man respectively.

“Three? I put my heart and soul into this!” Prompto picks up his bowl of soggy vegetables and gives Ignis puppy dog eyes.

Gladio eyeballs Prompto. “Really?”

“Shut up. What is the scoring limit? How do we know who wins?”

Ignis pulls a small notepad out of his pocket and flips through it. “Since there are four challenges, I put a cap of ten points for each challenge, based on the grading system for the dishes. The points given are a combination of taste, creativity, presentation, and technique. The winner will be declared at the end of the four rounds based on who has the highest number of points.”

Prompto blinks in confusion. “Do we get a chart or a sheet or something?”

“Yeah, you’ve even got me a little stumped,” says Gladio.

“No worries,” Ignis makes his way to the back of the kitchen, where a curtain lines the back wall. “That’s why I made this scorekeeper,” Ignis tugs on a cord.

The curtains part to reveal a scoreboard with a row given to each guy, four columns for the challenges, and a giant food-based sticker at each corner of the board. Everyone looks at the board like it’s an abstract piece of art.

“When the hell did you have time to make such a thing?” asks Noctis.

“Never underestimate someone’s utilization of free time.” Ignis takes a dry erase marker and writes in the scores for the first round. He caps the pen with a loud _snap!_ “We’ll begin the second challenge tomorrow, but for now, you can take the rest of the day to yourselves.”

Prompto jumps and slides over the counter in a rush to the door. “Party time!” Gladio and Noctis make their way to the door, but not before Ignis steps in front of it.

“But not until this mess is cleaned up.”

“Are you kidding me?” asks Noctis.

“The owner was nice enough to lend us his kitchen, it’s only fair that we treat him with respect and leave it the way we found it.”

Prompto’s shoulder slump and he turns a one-eighty. “Let’s get this over with.”

***

Noctis yawns and stretches as he steps out into the afternoon sun. The others follow behind, squinting from the brightness.

“Where to?” asks Noctis.

Prompto stops Noctis in front of a building by slinging an arm across his shoulders and pointing inside, which appears to be an arcade. “I’m putting an end to your winning streak, right here, right now. Guns blazing.” He mimics a gun with his fingers and shoots Noctis in the side of the head. “Think you can handle it?”

“Can _you_ handle getting your ass kicked?” asks Noctis, who ducks beneath Prompto and puts him in a chokehold.

Gladio sighs and pulls them apart. “You know this isn’t the wilderness, right? People are watching.”

“You guys go on. I have another engagement I need to attend to,” says Ignis, pulling the Regalia’s keys from his pocket.

“Wait, where are you going?” asks Noctis.

“Doesn’t matter,” Ignis gives them a wave as he walks towards the central plaza, “I’ll be back to pick you guys up tomorrow.”

“Wait, he’s gonna be gone all day?” Prompto’s brows furrow.

Gladio gives a knowing smile in Ignis’ direction, claps a hand on each of the guy’s shoulders and leads them inside. “Come on, I want to see you two virtually beat the shit out of each other.”

Inside, Prompto spots a daemon killing shoot ‘em up game and runs to it. “Aw man, I haven’t played this since we were back in the Crown City!”

Noctis joins him, inspecting the controller while Prompto digs around in his vest pockets for spare change. He finds a few gil and pops them into the machine.

The main menu screen disappears, scrolling upward. A small cut scene plays, showing the player in first person POV approaching a vegetation covered dungeon entrance. They enter and the game begins. Daemons pop out of nowhere as they traverse the dungeon. Prompto and Noctis shoot at them with their controller guns, Prompto being freer with his aiming, shooting from behind is back and other stunts while nailing a heart or head shot every time. Gladio watches in amusement, arms crossed.

“So why do you think Iggy is making us do this dumb cooking competition?” asks Prompto as he sends a daemon screaming to its death.

“You only think it’s dumb because you’re losing,” says Noctis.

“Seriously though!”

“Maybe he’s finally realized he’s been babying you two,” says Gladio.

“Nobody’s making him,” says Noctis.

“Have you ever considered giving him a ‘thank you’ every once in a while? It’s one thing to do something because you love it, but the love of doing it quickly fades when you know you’re just being taken for granted.”

Noctis misses a shot and a daemon lunges at him, killing his player. He puts the gun away roughly. “Why do you always have to play the devil’s advocate, huh? You know I’d never take him for granted.”

Prompto loses his vigor in shooting daemons, absentmindedly shooting with one hand while he listens in on the conversation. “Maybe we have been and we haven’t noticed,” he says quietly.

Noctis doesn’t reply and instead shoves his hands in his pockets, avoiding Gladio’s “I told you so” look. “So, what do we do?” he asks finally.

“We indulge him in his game. No bitching or half-assing it from this point onward,” says Gladio.

The machine _bleeps_ as Prompto makes it out of the dungeon barely alive. His total score is counted and added to the high score roster. He turns to the others with a cheeky smile. “Are we gonna do this, then?”

They nod in solidarity.

“May the best man win,” says Noctis.

***

Ignis pulls into the Meldacio Hunter HQ, parking the Regalia near the general store. A light drizzle begins to fall as he makes his way to one of the wooden cabins at the other end of the base. He climbs the stairs and goes to knock on the door but stops. He tries the knob instead: it’s unlocked. He enters.

The inside of this small cabin is furnished but appears unlived in, with a full-size bed tucked in the corner, a plaid sofa in a makeshift sitting area, a small rickety table in the dining area, and a crude galley kitchen. Ignis enters the kitchen and opens the cupboards, inspecting its contents. He finds what he’s looking for: a bag of ground ebony.

Ignis locates the ebony maker and fills it with water. He opens another cabinet looking for filters when he feels the cold metal of a blade press against his throat and an arm snake around his middle.

A pair of purple-painted lips brush against his ear. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to enter a woman’s dwelling without her permission?”

A smile plays on his lips. “Didn’t your mother teach you to lock your doors?” He quips in return.

“Well said.” The blade disappears from his throat, the hand raking across his middle as it retreats. Ignis subtly exhales his relief before turning. Aranea twirls the blade in her hand before sheathing it. She wears a bathrobe and her hair is damp. She gives him a once over. “What do you want, Specs? Did mama bear lose all her cubs?”

“I need you.”

“You know I prefer a bit of wining and dining first,” she says as she slinks over to the sofa, taking a seat and setting her knife down on the coffee table.

Ignis pinches the bridge of his nose before taking a seat on the bed, which sits across from the sofa. “I need your help for a series of missions I’m planning. Hunts, if you will.”

“Oh? The smartest man in Lucis can’t help his boys fight a few monsters. Cute.”

Ignis taps his foot in irritation. “Look. I’m having them do a training exercise tomorrow and I need each of them to be supervised by someone qualified enough to protect them.”

“Protect them or Noctis?” She crosses her legs, intrigued.

“I’ve arranged for someone else to be with Noctis.”

Aranea shrugs, her robe slipping slightly to reveal her shoulder. “All right, I’m in,” She pulls the robe back in place. “But what do I get out of this?”

Ignis takes off his glasses and cleans them. “I thought I would just ask a favor.”

“Oh Specs, you should know this by now,” she gets up and heads for the door. “I’m a mercenary. And for us, favors come at a price.” She locks the door with a _click_ , turns and flashes him a sexy smile. “Lose the gloves this time, Love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowza, shit got spicy real fast, eh? A dish is best served with a little heat, but I'm afraid this is about as much heat as you're gonna get because this is a story about blokes who must cook and be champions rather than smut.
> 
> That's not to say Ignea won't be assessed more later...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, another set-up chapter! This second challenge is gonna be a doozy, spanning multiple chapters and probably different POVs for each. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

The guys hang around near the steps as Ignis pulls up to the curb. Ignis blares the horn, which causes a dozing Noctis to jolt awake.

“Come along now!” Ignis shouts to them from the car. Noctis makes his way to the car with Gladio and Prompto tailing behind. Prompto has a croissant crammed into his mouth while holding a donut in each hand, whereas Gladio carries two cups of ebony.

“Morning, Sunshine,” Gladio says jokingly as Ignis reaches for one of the ebonies.

“Cheers,” Ignis takes a sip before even checking if it was cool.

“Where are we going?” Prompto asks around a mouthful of food as he climbs into the backseat.

“Wiz’s,” replies Ignis.

Prompto’s eyes light up. “Are we gonna go play with the chocobos?”

“No.”

“Aw man!” Prompto sinks down in his seat.

“Off we go,” says Ignis, as the suicide doors swing shut. He pulls away from the curb and soon they’re gliding down the road with the scenery zipping by.

They pass through the eastern tunnel, the disc of Cauthess flashing through the rows of openings lining the side of the tunnel. Noctis rests his chin in his hand with eyes closed, fighting to catch at least a few more minutes of sleep. Prompto reaches form the back seat to mess with the radio but Ignis swats his hand away.

“For once it’d be nice to enjoy the silence,” he says.

“Fine.” Prompto kicks back in his seat and stares at the trees passing by in a blur.

They sit in silence for a while as they follow the winding road through lush forests that steadily transform into a rocky plain. Sleep appears to elude Noctis and he mumbles something, his hand obscuring his words.

“What was that?” asks Ignis.

Noctis sits up, dropping his hand in his lap. “I said, ‘So what was the engagement you had yesterday?’”

“Well…” Ignis tries to buy himself time by taking a sip of his drink.

“He went to go try out a new fine dining place,” says Gladio with a nudge, causing Ignis to almost spit his drink across the dashboard.

“And that took all night?” asks Noctis.

“You know how he’s one to savor his meals,” retorts Gladio, a smug grin creeping across his face. Ignis can only respond with a glare as a blush blooms up from his neck.

“I don’t feel I need to just-“

“Wait,” says Prompto, “You’re telling me that you went out to have a delicious meal and left us to fend for ourselves for _the third night in a row_?”

“Not cool, Specs,” Noctis chimes in, leaning in between the front seats. Ignis grips the steering wheel tighter and Noctis notices Ignis’ right glove is missing. “Okay, you can’t nag me about the state of my clothes anymore when you appear to be losing yours.”

Prompto sighs. “I doubt a chocobo stole it this time.”

Ignis makes a sharp turn onto the road leading to the chocobo post, which causes the guys in the backseat to fall to one side.

“Watch it!” yells Noctis.

“Enough,” says Ignis, “we’re ending this discussion. Where I go is my business unless it concerns you and your well-being. And it didn’t, so leave it. I think I deserve-“

“Aranea!” Prompto shouts from the backseat at he spots the flash of silver hair under one of the umbrella-shaded tables. Ignis slams on the brakes, which gives Prompto enough of an opening to hop out of the car and prance over to her.

“What happened to wanting to win for Cindy?” asks Noctis.

“Let him have his moment,” says Gladio, staring at Ignis who now rests his head against the steering wheel, collecting himself. “He’ll have his sights back on her before we know it.”

The rest of them exit the regalia and join the small group clustered around a table. When they see Noctis approach, the others stand: Biggs and Wedge stand at attention on either side of Aranea, and Cor the Immortal stands off to the side, arms crossed with the same emotionless scowl on his face.

“Your Highness,” Cor says to Noctis with a respectful nod.

“It’s just Noctis,” he says, shying away from the title.

Gladio greets Cor with a curt nod, and turns to Aranea. “Is the little lady joining us on our challenge?”

She wrinkles her nose in distaste. “Nice to see you too, Big Guy.”

Prompto hangs by her side like a dog begging to be pet. “Hey, what about me?”

A gloved hand wraps around Prompto’s face and pulls him back in line with Noctis. “I think we ought to give the lady some breathing room, hmm?” says Ignis.

“What ever would I do without my knight in pinstripe and leopard print,” Aranea rolls her eyes. Biggs and Wedge snicker behind her.

“Way to call out the pretty boy on his fashion sense, Ma’am,” says Wedge.

Ignis adjusts his glasses. “Aranea… thank you for coming.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” she says with a smile.

Ignis takes his place next to her, but keeps a civil distance between them. “Come around now everyone, so we can get started.”

Cor and Gladio end their talk and join the others. Noctis waits impatiently while Prompto bounces on his heels, a stupid grin plastered on his face whenever his gaze lands on Aranea.

“Today we start the first part of a two-part challenge in this competition,” announces Ignis.

Wedge nudges an elbow into Biggs to get his attention. “Oy, what’s this ‘bout a competition, I thought we were babysitting and hunting or somethin’,” he says under his breath.

Biggs shrugs his indifference. “Just do the job and get the gil, mate.”

“First off,” says Ignis, who glances sideways when Aranea takes a subtle step closer to him, “Let me announce the course of this second challenge: you are to make a small plate, or appetizer. The catch is you must fetch the key ingredient for your dish yourself, and I’ll provide you with information on where to acquire it. Is that clear?” Ignis’ voice rises in surprise at the end of his statement, which he masks with a cough, when he feels Aranea’s hand disappear into the back pocket of his trousers, shoving something in the pocket, but not before copping a feel.

Noctis’ eyebrow quirks upward and Prompto tilts his head at their friend’s sudden loss in composure, unable to determine the cause as Aranea adjusts her stance, hands clasped behind her back, as if nothing was wrong.

“What are the rest of us here for?” asks Cor.

“Right, well, the nature of this exercise is being able to acquire the freshest ingredients in order to cultivate an appreciation for the dishes you make. That being said, these particular ingredients must come from a live creature. In essence, in order to win, you have to hunt and prepare your own meal.”

“Like a true survivalist,” Gladio comments.

“Exactly. Now, in order to ensure the Crown Prince’s safety, as well as the others, I’ve recruited the help of those around us to accompany each of you on your hunts.”

Prompto raises his hand. Ignis sighs. “Yes, Prompto?”

“Can we pick who will accompany us?”

“No. Everything is already arranged.”

Prompto’s shoulders sag. “So who gets who?”

“Cor will accompany Noctis. Biggs and Wedge will go with Gladio, and Aranea will be with Prompto.”

Prompto whoops and punches the air. “Luck is finally on my side!”

Aranea smirks at him. “Of course you stick me with the energetic squirt,” she whispers to Ignis.

“Next, you will choose your key ingredient, by random selection, and receive a card with info on where to find and slay the beast.” Ignis turns and holds a hand out to Biggs. “Your hat, please.”

Biggs removes his cap, revealing a head of thinning hair, and hands it to Ignis. Ignis reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small bundle of papers, removing the band that holds them together and deposits them in the hat. He approaches Noctis. “Take one, but don't look.”

Noctis reaches into the hat, papers rustling, and pulls out a single piece. Ignis moves onto Prompto and Gladio until everyone has a paper. “Alright, you can look at your assignments now,” says Ignis.

They each unfold their paper. Noctis looks at the beast on his card, its location marked on a mini map.

“Aw, come on! I hate these things!” shouts Prompto. “Can I pick again?”

“No,” says Ignis. “I assure you these beasts are beatable with the skills you have, more so with the aid of your escort.”

“We ain’t no escorts,” says Wedge.

“Excuse my phrasing; _hunting companion,_ ” Ignis says sharply. “You have two days from now to return with your key ingredient. If you leave today, that should give you plenty of time. Good luck.”

The group separates into their separate parties to discuss strategy. Aranea remains by Ignis’ side. “You didn’t tell me I’d have to stay overnight with one of them,” says Aranea.

“You’ll be fine. Prompto’s a gentleman.”

Aranea scoffs. “I’m not worried about him.”

“Then what’s your qualm?”

“I don’t like being blind-sided on a deal.”

“It’s a favor.”

Aranea leans to whisper in his ear. “You owe me when I get back,” she says, “otherwise I’ll take more than your glove as a souvenir.” She nibbles his ear seductively before pulling away with a smile. She walks over to Prompto, who’s been studying his card with the utmost concentration.

Ignis reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his missing glove, sliding the leather over his hand. “I suggest you all be off now,” he calls out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the gloves make a return...
> 
> I love my Chocobros, even when they bust each other's balls. 
> 
> But I love them SO MUCH that a friend and I (along with other collaborators) started an blog about cosplaying and our WIP fan art merchandise, while we are in the process of opening a store. 
> 
> Fancy a look-see at our blog and give us a follow and message us because we love to chat with people!  
> (misohappyartsandcrafts.tumblr.com)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I'm sorry for going dormant on this fic for so long. Con season has been busy these past few months with traveling and cosplay making, but more importantly, I had professional writing obligations to tend to. 
> 
> This chapter isn't as lengthy as I'd hoped, but is pivotal all the same. So now I present you with the first of three chapters filled with side quest goodness with our protags bonding with their perspective mission chaperones. This case being Noctis and Cor, who may or may not be tense with one another since the last time they were together was after the invasion of Nifilheim. >>

Noctis and Cor stand outside the entrance to Myrlwood, the sun already leaning west as the afternoon fades into evening. Noctis suppresses a yawn.

“Wouldn’t it be better to start at dawn?” he asks.

“We can set up camp once we’re inside. Ignis gave us two days, and we’ve burned through half a day getting here. There isn’t time to waste.”

Noctis taps the toe of his boot into the dirt. “All right. Let’s get this over with.”

Cor readjusts the scabbard attached to his hip and leads them inside.

***

There are two things Noctis will never get used to since leaving the Crown City: bugs and camping. He swats at the buzzing gnats around his head (not realizing the sweet fragrance of his hair gel is what’s attracting them) while Cor marches on ahead, ignoring the prince’s grunts of frustration.

“Come on, get away from me!” Noctis yells as he’s taken to wildly slapping the air.

 “Noctis. Focus, or it’ll be dark before we get to the site.”

“Yes, Marshal.”

Noctis trudges ahead, fighting the desire to scratch his legs as they brush past the knee-high foliage. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the folded piece of paper with his assignment on it. Fucking Ignis and his games. He thought this competition would mean staying inside, not gallivanting through all of Lucis.

On the paper is the picture of a Basilisk, with a crude hunter’s map of its location, presently residing in Myrlwood. Noctis grimaces at the image of the large snake with its even larger fangs, its hood fanned out like a cobra ready to strike.

“Hey Cor, have you ever fought one of these things?”

“No, but I’m sure it’s no different than any other beast out here.”

Always calm and collected. Noctis remembers when he was young and Cor would train him and Gladio together on swordsmanship on occasion. There was nothing that could scare Cor the Immortal. That is…

“What have you been up to since we went our separate ways?”

Cor slows. “Keeping busy. Training the hunters, you know.”

There’s more than he’s letting on, but Noctis lets it slide for now. Something whizzes past his head, followed by the howl of a mandrake. He looks up to seek out the culprit, but the canopy is too dense.

“I think we should look for cover,” says Noctis. But Cor already has his sword drawn, his stance poised for battle.

“Just think of it as an exercise. I want to see how much you’ve grown since we’ve last fought together.”

Noctis smirks and summons his greatsword. “Wanna make a challenge out of it?”

“What do you propose?”

“Whoever slays the least has to prepare dinner.”

“Is this what Ignis is put up to all the time?”

“Nah. He enjoys it.”

The howling and screeching becomes more manic, and some of the mandrakes descend from the tree tops while other still fling fruit and rocks.

“Deal,” Cor says, flicking his blade to the side, cutting a flying fruit as it veers past him.

A mandrake stands opposite of Noctis and roars in his direction, its leafy mane fanned out in aggression. Noctis readies his blade and warps at it, a fire burning in his eyes.

***

The body of a mandrake thumps onto the ground as Cor deposits it above him at the cliff’s edge before he pulls himself up. Noctis follows behind, taking Cor’s hand as he’s pulled up. Cor picks up the mandrake corpse and slings it across his shoulders.

“We’re almost there,” Cor says as he makes his way into the tunnel.

“Aren’t you tired? You killed like ten of them.”

Cor chuckles. “That was just a warm-up. I thought you’d be better than that.”

“Hey, my sword is like seven times the size of yours!”

“Don’t brandish a big sword if you don’t know how to wield it properly.”

Noctis grumbles to himself while kicking a stone down the length of the tunnel. So what if he was head of the Crownsguard, that proved to all be for naught when Nifilheim…when he couldn’t even save his father.

Noctis raises his gaze when they approach the mouth of the tunnel, opening up to a haven next to a serenity pool and waterfall.

“We’ll rest here,” Cor says, depositing their kill. “Wash up, and I’ll show you how to prep this.”

“But you won, I can take care of it myself.”

“I’ll set up camp then.”

Cor approaches the fire and starts kindling it while Noctis heads to the dock of the serenity pool. He kneels by the edge of the dock and dips his hands in. The water is cool and crystal clear, acting like a mirror as it reflects the stars shining from the opening in the cave above. After washing his face and hands, Noctis goes over to the mandrake, ready to get to work.

Noctis inspects the dead thing, not sure of where to start.

“Here,” says Cor, holding out a knife by the blade. “You gotta skin it if you wanna eat it.”

“Right,” Noctis takes the knife gingerly. Back to the staring contest with the mandrake. “Uh…” He pierces the body, but goes too deep.

“By the Six, not like that, you idiot.” Noctis jumps as Cor appears by his side, taking the blade from him. “You’re gonna ruin it if you keep that up.”

Noctis gives Cor some space as he finds a comfortable position to get to work.

“Is there anything…,” Noctis starts, feeling mildly embarrassed to have to be taken care of once again.

“If you want to be useful, go get a pot of water boiling,” Cor says gruffly as he spreads the Mandrake out.

“Okay.”

Noctis takes a cast iron pot and goes to the spring. As he fills it with water, he hears Cor unsheathe his sword, followed by the sound of swift hacking into flesh. When he returns, he finds the head and limbs of the mandrake gone, discarded outside the haven for the daemons to fight over. Noctis hangs the pot over the flame and takes a seat across from Cor, who’s now skinning the torso of the mandrake with skill.

“Where’d you learn to do that?”

Cor smirks.

“Who do you think kept His Highness from starving during those expeditions in the early days?”

“Wait, you were the Specs of the group?”

“Nah, I was just the youngest, so they threw it all on me.” Once the skin was removed, Cor starts to fillet the beast. “But I knew how to do this even before the Crownsguard. It’s a rite of passage if you want to survive out here.”

Noctis rests his chin on his knee. “You always took care of him.”

“It was my duty. But that day, I failed, and I have to live with that for the rest of my life.”

The crackling of the fire fills the heavy silence between them.

“…Can you teach me how to do that?” Noctis asks, gesturing to the carved-up beast.

Cor looks at Noctis, a joy shining in his eyes, but not quite reaching his mouth. He holds out the knife. “Have at it.”

***

Noctis and Cor stealthily make their way to the cliff’s edge where the misty marshland lays out below.

“This place always gives me the creeps.”

“You haven’t been enough places, then.”

Cor jumps down, disappearing over the edge, before landing with a thud and rolling to his feet.

“Show off,” Noctis mutters to himself. He jumps down after him.

They wade through ankle deep water, the mist curling upwards around them.

“Where is this thing?”

“We just gotta find its nest.”

They don’t notice in an alcove off to the side, a large, grayish body slides from a hole in the ground, slowly climbing a tree.

“Can’t you use your immortal skills and sense it or something?”

“I don’t have super powers,” Cor gruffly tells him. “I swear that nickname will be the death of me,” he then mutters to himself.

The basilisk winds itself through the canopy of the trees, circling the two standing below.

“Can we stand on some land at least? I feel like something’s gonna grab me underneath the water.”

“Nothing’s gonna grab you. The basilisk is too big.”

“How big is it exactly?”

Cor groans and looks to the sky, as if pleading the Six for help. He freezes, a smirk playing on his lips as he looks into the trees. “That big.”

“Huh?” Just as Noctis looks up, the basilisk hisses and falls from the trees, landing with a crash, displacing both water and dirt around them. It fans out its hood and bares its fangs.

Cor brandishes his sword. “Don’t let it surround you.”

Noctis summons his lance. “Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

They charge at the basilisk. Noctis warps to its head, stabbing it with his lance before falling to the ground and rolling away. Cor jumps on the beast’s back and starts to hack at it to wear away it’s scaly armor. The basilisk finds the pain a nuisance and knocks him off with its tail.

The basilisk suddenly stands at full height, raising its head to shoot venom, raining it down on its prey.

“Get in the water, Noct!” Cor yells as he emerges from the marsh he was flung into.

Noctis runs, trying to shield himself from the pelting acidic drops until he dives into the marsh.

“Shit! That stuff burns!” Noctis yells as he rubs at his arms.

The basilisk takes the temporary retreat as a victory and starts to head back towards its nest.

“Don’t let it get away,” Cor says, wading through the water.

“Got it.” Noctis warps to the beast, spearing it with the lance with the full force of the warp. It hisses and seems to almost squeal at the attack. Noctis retrieves his lance, but it’s ripped from his grasp as the basilisk begins to circle him, winding its body tighter and tighter in an attempt to trap Noctis in a bind. Noctis appears frozen as his field of vision lessens until all he can see are dark, scaly walls closing in on him.

“Noct! Warp!” Cor yells, descending from one of the lower trees. He lands on the back of the basilisk’s hood, and plunges his blade into it. Noctis warps out of basilisk’s clutches into the canopy of the trees, his engine blade protruding from the trunk of the tree as he hangs.

He watches below as Cor is jostled around by the basilisk, fighting to hold onto his blade as the beast flails with its dying strength. At last it succumbs, its head crashing to the ground, bringing Cor with it.

“Marshal!” Noctis warps back to the ground and rolls to brace himself. The basilisk is dead and he finds Cor climbing to his feet, dusting the mud off himself. “Holy shit, I thought it crushed you.”

Cor goes to retrieve his blade from the basilisk’s head. “I’m no amateur.” He pulls the blade out and flicks it to the side to shake the blood off. “I thought I told you not to let it surround you. You got a death wish?”

“No, Sir. I just… froze, I guess.” Noctis rubs the back of his neck.

“Noctis.” Noctis looks up when Cor claps a hand on his shoulder. Cor looks at him with a piercing gaze. “You did good. You’ve become stronger since we last crossed paths. His Highness would’ve been proud.”

Noctis responds with a small smile, knowing Cor rarely gives praise. The hand falls from his shoulder. “Now to reap our rewards for this mission,” Cor holds out his hunting knife to Noctis. “Would you like to do the honors?”

Noctis chuckles and takes the blade from him. “You bet your immortal ass I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the read! Episode Gladio was such a help on giving Cor more characterization. 
> 
> Speaking of Gladdy Daddy, stay tuned for the next chapter where he has to go on a hunt with Biggs and Wedge!
> 
> Additionally, if you love FFXV as much as I do and want to spread the love, I run a [storenvy](http://misohappy.storenvy.com) with my friend and we have a collection dedicated to your favorite sexy chocobros, so check it out if you fancy!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio embarks on a hunt in Castlemark Tower alongside Biggs and Wedge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, you lot. I have come bearing an update a week late, as this is a Gladio-centric chapter, and what better way to celebrate Gladdy Daddy than with a fic chapter on father's day????? Oh well, I tried. At least I finally passed the 10,000 word mark!
> 
> In other news, HAVE YOU SEEN THE TEASER FOR EPISODE IGNIS? My poor British baby just can't catch a break no matter what. Christmas will appear to be filled with both joy and angst this time around. 
> 
> *composes self* Right. Well. I hope you enjoy this chapter, a little jaunt I had destroying Castlemark a little more because god do I hate that dungeon.

In the southeastern forest of Duscae, Gladio sits cross-legged, furrowing his brow in concentration as he inspects the fan of cards in his hand. Across from him sit Biggs and Wedge, each with cards in their hand, wearing the most stoic of poker faces. Wedge’s frown deepens, before he growls and throws down his cards.

“Fold,” he grumbles in his baritone voice.

Gladio raises an eyebrow at Biggs, who chews on the toothpick in his mouth. “The fuck you lookin’ at, mate? You gonna bow out too like this poor bastard over here?” Biggs juts his thumb in Wedge’s direction, earning him a “Piss off” in the form of two raised fingers.

“I play to win,” Gladio lays down his cards with a smug grin, revealing a full house.

Biggs looks at the hand and his toothpick snaps in his mouth. “Well, shit,” he slaps down his cards, having only a pair of kings.

Gladio chuckles and scoops up the small pile of gil they were betting with. “Pleasure doing business with you both.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re just taking the piss now,” Wedge says, polishing his axe, running the blade skillfully over a whetstone.

“Don’t be mad, dinner will be on me.”

Gladio fills a kettle with water and hangs it over the fire. “How long we supposed to be out here before that door opens?” Biggs asks.

“Nightfall. You’ll know when the runes start glowing.”

“Lotsa daemons be lurkin’ ‘round at night,” Wedge comments.

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Biggs says confidently. He holds out his hand, gesturing to Gladio. “Lemme see the paper that posh fellow gave you.”

Gladio pulls the folded-up mission statement from his inner jacket pocket, handing it to Biggs. The water inside the kettle pops against the metal, steam rising from the spout. Gladio takes it off the fire and pulls out three cups of, surprise, Cup Noodles.

“Says here there’s a Jabberwock lurking in that dungeon,” Biggs strokes his chin, looking over the creature bio, and picture. “Gods, it looks like a bird fucked a dinosaur.”

Wedge leans over to sneak a peek. “That’s an ugly bugger for ya.”

“The meat is good, though. I remember Iggy using it for stews and such.”

“We’re just here for the free food,” says Biggs.

“And ‘cause Lady A told us to,” Wedge mutters.

Gladio smirks as he hands over a Cup to each of the mercenaries. “She hang your guys’ sacs on her headboard or something?”

“Shut yer hole,” Wedge says with a mouthful of noodles. “It’s ‘bout loyalty.”

“She’s changed a bit, though. She’s normally not one for favors, but that posh bloke seemed to persuade her,” says Biggs.

“Prolly ‘cause he’s a good shag,” Biggs and Gladio look at Wedge incredulously. “Don’ look at me like that. Ya know just as well as I do how often that bloke comes ‘round the HQ.”

Gladio sets down his Cup. “How long’s this been going on?”

Biggs looks at Wedge, then up at the sky as he mentally counts. “’Bout three months now, I’d say.”

“Sly bastard,” Gladio mutters to himself.

“A proper tom cat, he is,” Biggs says.

“Never would’ve guessed,” Gladio scratches the back of his head, and then resumes eating. “Have either of you…”

Biggs and Wedge almost simultaneously spit out broth. “Bloody hell! The kind of men you take us for?!

Gladio raises his hands in defense. “Just asking if the opportunity ever presented itself.”

“Only thing’ve got was a boot in the arse for slackin’ during a hunt.”

“Lady A’s a fierce one. Ya don’t want to cross her.”

Gladio recalls their first encounter with her at an Imperial base. “Noted.”

Biggs takes a swig from his canteen, looking in the direction of Castlemark Tower. “That there that glowing yer talkin’ about before?”

Gladio looks over his shoulder. “Red as the blood moon.” He tosses his trash into the fire and rises to his feet. A beast’s roar echoes through the darkened forest. “It’s time to slay a beast.”

***

The trio descends the stone staircase into the tower, their heavy footsteps echoing through the corridors. The flashlights attached to their coats provide the only light as the glow from the runes disappear, giving way to darkness.

“Oy, would ya mind yer clomping back there? Otherwise the daemons are gonna hear us long before they see us,” says Biggs.

“Maybe if I could see where I was bleedin’ walking, I wouldn’t ‘ave to use my feet as feelers,” Wedge growls back.

The men step into the into the first chamber. Biggs shines his light along the perimeter.

“Empty.”

Gladio points to a doorway to their left. “Still got a long way down.”

“I’m feelin’ a bit claustrophobic, ya know,” Wedge mumbles as he and Biggs follow Gladio.

He leads them through a few more winding corridors before they reach a dilapidated room, the pathway splitting in two directions: one to a crumbled drop off to the floor below, the other with a lone column bridging the gap between a doorway and where they stand.

“I ain’t crossin’ that,” Wedge gestures to the makeshift bridge with his axe.

“You gonna stay here and wait while me and Popeye here go for glory and good eats?” Gladio teases him.

“Now you’re just takin’ a piss,” Wedge spits on the ground. “If you’re so tough, go on first.”

“All right.” Gladio tosses his great sword to the other side. Hands-free, Gladio steps onto the column, which groans slightly under his weight. He’s halfway across when his balance tips a little to the left. His stretches out his arms to redistribute his balance, but instead starts to lean the other way. One foot leaves the column.

“H-Hey! Be careful!” Biggs reaches out towards him, as if that’d help the situation ten feet in front of him.

Gladio immediately rights himself, perfectly balanced. He tosses a grin back at them. “Just kidding.”

“Wanker,” Biggs says to Wedge, loud enough so Gladio hears him.

Gladio makes it across the gap and hops off the column, retrieving his sword. “Who’s next?”

Biggs shoves Wedge towards the column. “Go on, twinkle toes.”

Wedge turns and slams his axe into Biggs’ chest. “Watch my axe then, yeah?”

            Wedge then takes a step onto the column, which doesn’t shift. He looks down below and sees only darkness. With that observation, he drops to his hands and knees and crawls across the column. When he reaches the other side, he gives Gladio a death glare. “Not a word.”

Gladio suppresses a smile. “Whatever works, man.”

            Wedge dusts himself off before gesturing to Biggs. “Axe.”

            Biggs tosses the axe across, which Wedge skillfully catches. Biggs makes his way across the gap with ease and they go through the doorway and begin their descent down a long spiral ramp.

            “No more of them apples and pears here, I see,” Wedge comments.

            “Carpeted too,” Biggs toes the ragged red material covering the ground.

            “Yeah, yeah, they rolled out the welcome mat. Let’s go.” Gladio leads the way down. At the foot of the stairs, a trio of Hobgoblins appear and lope their way towards them.

            “I got this,” Wedge shoves his way in front of the other two, and swings his axe overhead at the nearest fiend. It falls, but the axe is lodged in its torso. Another hobgoblin takes the opportunity to punch Wedge in the side.

            “I don’t think he got this,” says Biggs, who draws a saber and joins the fight alongside Gladio.

            The battle is short and sweet, the dying moan of the final hobgoblin the last thing heard as Gladio withdraws his sword from it. “I’ll never get used to how god damn stupid these things sound when dying.”

            Wedge rubs his side, his axe now resting over his shoulder. “Them things got a mean right hook.

            Biggs claps a reassuring hand on Wedge’s shoulder. “Maybe next time we get into a brawl at the pub, we invite them to come along.” He chuckles and the group continues downward to the next spiral ramp.

            “Bloody hell, we can infiltrate the Nifilheim empire at this rate,” Biggs says halfway down the second spiral.

            Gladio laughs. “They wouldn’t see that coming.”

            Five Thunder Bombs and a Galvanade appear at the base of the ramp.

            “Ah shit, this ain’t gonna be an easy fight,” Gladio says, his eyebrows raised.

            “If we’re halfway there, I ain’t one for quittin’,” Wedge takes his axe in both hands. “I take left, you right, and Biggs ‘ere will try to take down that big fucker.”

            The trio charges the enemies, the clash of their weapons on the electric bodies sending sparks flying. One of the Thunder Bombs is defeated, hardening into rock and falling to the ground. But three of the other thunder bombs merge to form another Galvanade.

            “You didn’t tell me they merge!”

            “I thought this fight would be over quicker!” Gladio yells as he braces himself against a charging Galvanade with his sword.

            Biggs steps back and digs in his coat pockets. “Was hoping to save my stock for the big battle, but it don’t look like that’s gonna happen.” He pulls three blizzard grenades from his jacket, and lights their fuses with a lighter.

            “Alright, lads, I’m gonna need us to make a break for it towards the doorway as soon as I throw these, or we’re all gonna be shittin’ ice cubes for the next week.”

            With that, Gladio and Wedge cut through the growing Galvanades with their weapons and run for the door across from the base of the ramp. Biggs runs through the cleared pathway and throws the blizzard bombs behind him. In seconds, the bombs explode and the Galvanades are extinguished in a flurry of ice shards.

***

            Gladio, Biggs, and Wedge enter the massive chamber through the center. Five sigil panels are scattered in each corner around the room.

Gladio rubs at his arms, rubbing away the frost shards that have accumulated on his jacket. “They need to put a radius warning on those things.”

“A minor inconvenience compared to death,” says Biggs.

“Touché.”

Wedge looks around the chamber. “By the Six, the hell was this built?”

“That’s one of the seven wonders of Lucis,” Gladio says as he makes his way to the far west corner. “Hope ya don’t mind tight spaces, because this next part is a lot of fighting in close quarters.”

Biggs appears by his side, holding ping-pong ball-sized bombs between his fingers. “Think it’d be faster if we just blast our way to the Jabberwock’s Keep?”

“Don’t gotta map. Iggy left it under a loose stone in the exit chamber, which means we’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way the first round.”

“The hell he do that for?” Wedge asks.

Gladio taps the side of his head. “So there’s only four people in Lucis who know the real way to the treasure that hides in this dungeon, and the beast that guards it.”

“Yeah, well make that six, because I ain’t dying in this shithole just so you can be a gourmet,” Wedge says irritably.

Gladio steps on the glowing purple light, and the panel shudders before starting a slow descent. “Next stop, the rat maze from hell.”

The trio makes their way through the stone maze, fighting any fiend that ambushes them. After many a battle, a stone panel ascends, revealing the way to a long corridor leading to the false exit chamber. They make their way out into the new open space.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Wedge says as he trots around the open space, embracing the limited freedom. “Now where’s this map?”

“Right over here,” Gladio strolls towards the south wall when a metal-grating demonic groan reverberates through the chamber. “Fucking great.” He readies his great sword.

Three Red Giants and a plethora of Gelatins spawn from the depths of Gods knows where.

“Oy, we ain’t got the kind of man power to deal with this right now,” Biggs shouts to Gladio. “Just grab the map while we hold ‘em off and then let’s get the hell outa here!”

Gladio breaks into a sprint, dodging Gelatin while Biggs and Wedge fend off the Red Giants and their monstrous blades. He reaches the south wall, only to see all the stones look the same, no marking bearing the one different from all the rest.

“God damn it, Iggy. I’m gonna knock your glasses clean off your face because of this,” he frantically gropes the walls trying to feel for a stone that’s loose.

Meanwhile, Biggs launches some grenades at the Gelatin in an attempt to lessen their numbers, while Wedge hacks at the knees of one of the Red Giants. “Come on, you son of a bitch!” Wedge shouts at Gladio in the heat of battle.

Gladio finally finds the stone that gives just a little, and yanks it from the wall. Inside is a series of notebook papers ripped from a journal. He replaces the rock and runs towards the panel that’ll aid in their escape.

“Guys, over here!” He screams to them as he slices through Gelatin.

They break away from the enemies and run towards the panel. Gladio activates it and it starts to ascend. Biggs and Wedge scramble on. They right themselves and Biggs lights a few bombs, tossing them below for good measure to prevent any followers.

“This is the last bloody time I’m ever helping you lot,” Biggs says.

***

The small chamber with the elevator leading down to the Jabberwock is empty. Muffled can be heard behind one of the walls.

“Get back!” Biggs yells.

In an instant, an explosion goes off and pieces of stone fly everywhere. The trio climb through the hole in the wall they’ve made.

“Told ya it’d be faster,” Biggs wipes the gunpowder residue from his hands.

“Saved me and the guys some time if we ever gotta come back,” says Gladio.

“Shut yer gobs and let’s kill this ugly fucker ‘fore I forget what daylight looks like,” gripes Wedge.

Gladio and the other two walk onto the elevator. Gladio activates it and it descends. The Jabberwock’s cries echo through the elevator shaft.

“Thing bloody screamin’ its head off like it’s askin’ to be killed,” says Biggs.

“I’d go crazy too if I was stuck down here for more than a few hours,” says Gladio. “Speaking of crazy, let’s not all go swords a swingin’ once we get down there, otherwise the mission would be pointless. We gotta strategize and take it down execution style.”

“What’re you thinking?” asks Biggs.

“We’ll do it the tried and true way: immobilize it and make a clean kill.”

Gladio looks between the two of them.

“So Wedge, you’ll be in charge of its’ legs. We don’t need ‘em, so you might as well rid of them early. Biggs, you got some flash bombs or noise bombs, something to disorient it?”

Biggs reaches into his pockets, pulling out a small handful of different shaped bombs. “Always come prepared for every situation.”

“Great.” The elevator stops. “Let’s kill the bastard.”

They exit the elevator, and find the Jabberwock circling the area, crying noisily. Gladio gestures for Wedge to approach the Jabberwock from behind, and Biggs from the front. The beast feels their presence.

Biggs takes the shot and lights the fuses of two flash bombs, tossing them towards the Jabberwock’s face. The bombs detonate with a bright flash of light and the beast screeches, blinded. Its stumbles a little, smacking into the elevator shaft.

At its feet, Wedge hacks at its hind leg, slicing the tendons. The Jabberwock falters and its tail swings around, catching Wedge and flinging him across the room. The beast limps around, trying to sniff out the invaders, but it can’t see. Biggs lights some small bombs and tosses it at the Jabberwock’s feet.

The Jabberwock screams and tries to jump away from the fire licking at its claws. Meanwhile, Gladio takes the opportunity during its frontal assault to run up its tail and climbing up its back. He steadily crawls his way towards its neck. Feeling a weight on its body, the beast starts to fling itself to and fro, trying to shake Gladio off.

“Guys, I said immobilize for a reason!” He fights to hang on.

Biggs helps Wedge to his feet. “Come on, you pansy, you gonna let ‘im take all the credit?”

“I got it, alright?” Wedge reaches into his jacket and pulls out a vial. He pulls the stopper off with his mouth and pours the liquid on the blade of his axe.

“You sure you ought to be using that poison if he’s gonna be cooking that meat?”

“It’ll be fine. It don’ affect people.”

Wedge runs towards the flailing Jabberwock and swings at its leg. The blade only makes it halfway through, but it’s enough. The beast lilts, off-balanced, and it cries as the poison starts to course through its veins. It stops flailing, and Gladio continues to crawl up its back.

He reaches the back of its head and grabs onto one of its horns with his free hand.

“Lights out, Birdy.”

Gladio swings his greatsword, slicing it across the throat. The light in its eyes dims, and it crashes to the ground. Gladio hops off of the beast, flicking the blood off his blade with a grandiose swing.

“Thanks for coming through for me.”

Biggs and Wedge sink to the floor, exhausted. “Glad that shite’s all over. Damn thing nearly did me in,” Wedge gingerly touches his ribs, a few of which he is sure are broken.

“That was a week’s worth of ammo I used just for this one mission!” Biggs gripes, lighting a much-needed cigarette.

Gladio’s back is to them as he gouges out a chunk of the Jabberwock with a few swings of his sword. He shoulders a hunk of meat and turns to the duo. “It’ll all be worth it once you taste what I’m gonna cook up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, we're halfway through the second challenge, sort of! Now for some fun facts.
> 
> I did loads of research on the cockney dialect and rhyming slang but didn't want to be obnoxious about it, so the only instance is when Wedge mentions "apples and pears" it's a very common rhyming slang referring to "stairs".
> 
> Is anybody else super excited for Episode Prompto being released tomorrow?! Are you ready for all that pain and angst? I'M NOT.
> 
> Next chapter, in celebration of finally being graced with Prompto's backstory, we will cover Prompto and Aranea's mission to the Rock of Ravatough to slay the Zu. Stay tuned!
> 
> PS if you happen to fancy FFXV or YOI and want to help an unemployed girl out, I run a [storenvy](http://misohappy.storenvy.com) with some pretty nifty stuff. 
> 
> Happy Gaming!


End file.
